"Tessa, he's just a leech. Why are you trying so hard to keep him?" She turned her glare on me. "Oliver Fox, do you even have a heart? Tessa has gone above and beyond for you. Every month, she gives you over ten thousand dollars for household expenses. Every business trip, she brings you gifts. Every holiday, she asks me to help pick out luxury goods for you."
A cold smile touched my lips.
Luxury goods?
From the day we married until now, the only gifts Tessa had ever given me were a plain silver band and a pair of generic sneakers she'd picked up on sale.
Audrey whipped out a stack of printed receipts.
"Audrey, don't—" Tessa's voice cracked.
She reached for the papers, but Audrey was too fast, too fueled by righteous indignation.
"Open your damn eyes," Audrey spat, shoving the papers toward me. "Every single item on this list was hand-picked by Tessa."
108 gifts. High-end daily necessities. Top-tier luxury items. Watches, limited edition belts, designer suits.
Not one had ever reached my hands.
A flicker of panic darted through Tessa's eyes. Gone in an instant—but I caught it.
"Audrey, enough!" Tessa's tone turned frantic. "Oliver isn't materialistic. There's just a misunderstanding between us. I can handle it."
To the crowd, she sounded like a devoted wife protecting her husband's dignity.
I knew better. She was protecting her lie.
"You act so tough for a man who lives off a woman," Audrey sneered. "Tessa told me about your... issues. That's why she asked me to buy that lingerie set last week. She wanted to surprise you on New Year's Eve..."
The rest faded into a dull buzz.
So the snowman photo was just the appetizer.
The main course had been hidden beneath it all along.
"Audrey, shut up!" Tessa's composure cracked.
Too late.
Audrey pulled out her phone and opened her chat history with Tessa, holding the screen up for me to see.
"Read it, Oliver. 'Audrey, this is the style he likes. Make sure the gift box is engraved: To my beloved Hubby.'"
On screen: explicit, sheer lingerie.
A chill ran down my spine.
In all our years of marriage, I'd never seen her wear anything like that. Whenever we were intimate, she was cold. Perfunctory. Lying there like a starfish, claiming exhaustion from work.
I'd believed her. Blamed myself.
Who would've thought she was buying scandalous lingerie in my name—to wear for someone else?